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<title>A New Client but an Old Friend by MazWroteAFicForOnce</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045010">A New Client but an Old Friend</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MazWroteAFicForOnce/pseuds/MazWroteAFicForOnce'>MazWroteAFicForOnce</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Carter-Reese Solutions [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Person of Interest (TV), The Spies Who Loved Her -Katrina Jackson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:35:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,142</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045010</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MazWroteAFicForOnce/pseuds/MazWroteAFicForOnce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Joss is home from a late job, but John isn't. By the time he gets home, he's dragged pre-trouble with him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Carter-Reese Solutions [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734487</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A New Client but an Old Friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm enjoying writing this crossover universe, and I'm hoping this fic will form part of a series based on Katrina Jackson's books (if you haven't read them, get yourself a copy of Pink Slip and have a great time), but that'll depend entirely upon my attention span.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The house was far too quiet. John wasn’t supposed to be doing anything but some light recon on a small cell of corrupt cops so should have been home long before now. Hers was the late night; a very wealthy client demanded that she lead the team. “The firm is called Carter-Reese Solutions, correct?” he hadn’t yelled, men with accents as plummy as him never yelled, but the rage was as unmistakable as his receding hairline and the slave money in his family tree. Joss, of course, hadn’t mentioned either. “Then I require either of these fine gentlemen to solve my problem.” She hadn’t told him in the meeting that it was Carter-Reese was a single name, or that the male half of their duo was only barely a gentleman. When she’d shown up at the party - it was his daughter’s 21st for chrissake and the club bouncers were more than sufficient - with a small team of women, all dressed in black, it seemed for a moment he’d choke to death on his very old glass of whisky. Secretly, but not exactly shamefully, she was disappointed to see him recover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The job had been simple and boring, just as expected. Yasemin almost broke the hand of a bouncer who got a bit overfamiliar, and Lin ended up holding a girl’s hair as she cried and puked down the toilet, but otherwise there was literally nothing of note. If she hadn’t so massively overcharged Mr Franshingham-Littlesby, it would have been a gigantic waste of her time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So now, so late it was very nearly dawn, she just wanted to crawl into bed next to the infuriating charmer she married and pass out for at least 24 hours. But he wasn’t there. No sound of his gentle snoring, or the quiet rattle of him stripping and cleaning his guns the way he did when his insomnia got the better or him. He couldn’t be out back in their gym, not at 5am, surely? A quick look out the kitchen window confirmed that the lights in their converted garage were out. She dug her phone out of her backpack and dialled John, not expecting anything but the voicemail message. She considered leaving one, but figured he’d either be home before he listened to it or in too much trouble to listen at all. She tried, Harold - straight to voicemail, Grace - straight to voicemail. She hesitated for a moment before ringing Zoe, hoping that John hadn’t somehow forgotten that sleeping with her usually ended up with him missing his wallet and a secret or two. She picked up on the first ring. “Joss, what can I do for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen John?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry Congresswoman, I’ll be with you in just a moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now not a good time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now’s always a good time for you. Trouble in paradise?” Joss could hear the smirk and couldn’t help but smile herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you ever stop trying to work an angle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never. But, in answer to the question you are - for some reason - far too polite to ask, John is not currently anywhere near my vagina. Especially since I left England last week. Want me to look into it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t need to owe you another favour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But my favours are so much fun!” Joss laughed out loud at that one. Trawling the sex parties of Berlin’s bored and horny searching for a particularly indiscreet power bottom had been a blast, up until she got a concussion from a poorly secured St Andrew’s cross. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye Zoe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me know when you find your husband. We three should get together again soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye Zoe.” Joss hung up and was still chuckling to herself when there was scrape in the laundry room. It had a window facing the little alley that ran between their road and the next cul-de-sac over. It should be locked from the inside, but this won’t be the first time someone’s gotten through a tricky lock. She crept across the kitchen, silent as she could, and carefully removed the taser they kept under the worktop. She raised the weapon, aiming through the doorless arch into the laundry room. The figure easing itself through the window was tall, pale, grinning at her? and goddammit “John you have to stop doing this. You should have just knocked. Where the hell have you been?” He winked at her before drawing her into a hug and dropping a kiss on her forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, didn’t know you’d be home. Anyway, we have a new client. I say ‘new client’, she’s more of an old friend” Joss drew back and looked at him, certain that this man had lost his goddamn mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not working for Monica. I’m not in the mood to be almost killed half a dozen times in one day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t dream of working for Monica!” He gave her a look, slightly sheepish, a little guilty but in a self congratulatory way that said ‘gosh aren’t I such a rascal?’ This meant he was about to piss her off in a way she’d get over and he didn’t care too much about. “We are not working for free. Your trip to the Philippines cost us a fortune and we need the cash flow.” He had the audacity to look affronted, as though he hadn’t suggested just that every time someone with a big eyes and a sob story asked for his help. “Of course not! They’ve agreed our usual fee and promised that it involves the people controlling those romance fraudsters Harold’s been tracking.” That sounded like a win win but John still looked guilty. She stepped out of his arms and crossed her own. He fiddled with his cuffs and looked at the ceiling for a moment. “It’s for Chante.” Joss wanted to say no, she knew she should say no. Chante always drags The Agency’s shit with her and if she has to hear about what a useless asshole Asif is one more time, she might find and kill him herself, just to solve the problem. But the tiny terror was joy incarnate, and it had been a while since she’d been on this side of the Atlantic. She sighed, heavy enough to remind her of her mother. “Fine. Arrange the meeting. But it’s way too late and I need to sleep for at least 10 hours before I do anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head, then her temples, then on the lips. It was a sweet gentle press, neither heavy nor demanding, and with each brush of his lips it was almost like falling in love again. Joss knew this was probably a bad idea, she knew she’d almost certainly end up shot at again, but that was a problem for tomorrow. Or later today. Or something.</span>
</p>
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